


In the Quiet

by Rochelle_Templer



Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life, character piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 08:24:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12860640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/Rochelle_Templer
Summary: Sometimes, Mike just needs a break....





	In the Quiet

Mike Nesmith was tired.

Recently, there had been a long dry spell between gigs. With no money coming it; Mike made the decision to get a couple of part-time jobs to help them get by. It had worked out well for a while. The guys would try to take care of the pad while he was at work. Then when he had time between jobs, Mike could rehearse with them. True, it didn’t leave much time for things like sleeping or eating, but the Texan had gone with little of both in the past.

After two weeks of this; they hit the jackpot. A new club had opened up and the owner decided to book them for their first two weeks of business. That combined with the money Mike had made recently meant that the Texan could quit his jobs to devote all his time to the band again.

It also meant that Mike wasn’t able to have any sort of break after working so hard. Every night once they got back from their nightly shows; Mike practically collapsed into bed. It didn’t take too long to catch up on his sleep. However, he still did not really feel rested at all.

Once the two weeks were up; the guys were able to pay Babbit all of their back rent and take care of the next two months. They were even able to fill their cupboards up with some much needed food. In theory, Mike should have been able to feel good about how their financial situation had improved.

However, knowing this and being able to actually relax turned out to be two different things. Once the gig was over, Mike found himself unable to sleep at night. He realized that it had been exhaustion that had helped him slumber before. Now that that was gone; he wasn’t sure how to unwind. The Texan spent afternoons and nights pacing around the pad. A part of him didn’t even want to play music to calm down anymore.

 It was on the third day of this that Mike started to feel near his breaking point. He stared at the beach, trying to figure out how to settle his nerves. He thought about taking a walk or maybe doing some chores, but neither one really appealed to him.

Mike was so lost in thought, he didn’t notice it when Peter walked up behind him.

“Hey Michael.” The Texan yelped and spun around.

“Peter,” Mike said, clutching his chest. “Don’t do that.”

“I, I’m sorry,” Peter said. “I just, I mean….”

“Aw Shotgun, it’s ok,” Mike said, letting his hands drop to his sides. “What is it? Did you need something?”

“I thought…that we could play checkers together!” Peter beamed at him. The bassist then held up the box with the board and pieces in it.

Mike gave him a half-smile. He wasn’t really in the mood for checkers, but it was clear that Peter was excited about it. Thus, he nodded his head and patted Peter’s shoulder.

“Sure,” he said. “Let’s set up at the table in the kitchen.”

A couple minutes later, they were quietly moving checkers over the board. Peter hadn’t said much, but Mike hadn’t expected him to. The bassist was often quiet while playing games or when he simply didn’t have anything to say. Often, Mike preferred to let the other person talk, but for some reason, he was grateful for the silence this time.

The minutes soon turned into an hour with the two of them still playing one game after another. Peter was winning most of them with Mike only making occasional wins. None of them understood why Peter was so good at beating them at checkers. Other than to write it off as another quirk in the bassist’s character.

By the time they reached their twentieth game, Mike felt a strange heaviness overtake his body. His eyelids drooped while his shoulders slumped. He knew his sudden lethargy wouldn’t make much difference as far as how much he would keep losing, but the Texan felt it was probably time to put a halt to the games.

“Look, Pete…I uh….”

“That’s ok, Michael,” Peter said, brushing the pieces off to the edge of the board. “I was thinking about watching a movie that was coming on TV anyway.”

Mike nodded and stood up to stretch his arms over his head. He didn’t feel tired enough to sleep, but zoning out in front of the television seemed like a good idea anyway. He watched Peter long enough to make sure the bassist got all the pieces back into the box before strolling to the front room. He doubted that whatever movie Peter picked would make much sense, but that didn’t really matter.

For the first time in almost a month, Michael Nesmith was ready to rest.


End file.
